Chasing Your Starlight
by romancerevival
Summary: "It is the darkness that shows us the stars." In a time of crisis, Elena is forced to make a choice. Somewhere along the way, she realizes that she made the wrong one. What if the home she's driving to isn't really her home? What if her home is really a person who's in the other direction? Damon/Elena-centric re-write of the season 3 finale, post-phone call. One-shot.


**Looks like I'm making a tradition of rewriting the season finale in a oneshot! It completely wrecked me, so writing it out the way I'd secretly (delusionally) hoped for is my kind of therapy. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! It's good to finally be back. Hope I'm not too rusty!**

… … …

"You're gonna be fine. You hear me?" Elena swallowed roughly, her voice cracking with every other syllable. "You're gonna be okay and I'm gonna see you soon." Elena didn't know if she was reassuring Damon or herself more at this point, but she had a pretty good feeling that it wasn't for the vampire.

"Real soon," Damon assured her in a low voice, smooth, calm, strong as ever. Strong for her, because she needed him to be. Without his strength, she became nothing; she fought for nothing. "Goodbye, Elena," he spoke into the phone, desperation threatening to crack into his voice as he turned to face Alaric, who he knew would kill him before the bloodline curse ever got to the punch.

Elena's tears refused to subside as she and Matt drove on. She felt hollow and unsatisfied; an ache lodged itself in her chest, one that she knew was irreversible and would not be removed. She leaned against the cool glass of the window, closing her eyes to succumb to the replay of memories flashing behind her heavy lids. She tried to summon thoughts of her and Stefan, of their relationship – the relationship that had pulled her from an abyss of misery that death and loss had plunged her into. But the memories that rose unbidden to the forefront of her mind were not what she was looking for; she saw herself finding Katherine's picture in Stefan's room and running away and wrecking her car, only to have Damon carry her from the flipped SUV in the unexpected safety of his arms. She saw Stefan failing to show at the Miss Mystic Falls pageant, and Damon stepping in at the last moment, dancing with her, holding her close and taking her breath away. She saw Stefan flying at her, hunger in his soulless eyes, to bite her in the darkened gym, followed by Damon finding her in the hospital and carrying her home, telling her he'd never leave her again. She saw Stefan nearly drive her off Wickery Bridge, and she saw Damon bolting out of his Camaro to pick her up from the nightmarish spot. Her eyes flew open and her heart lurched alarmingly as it hit her:

She wasn't driving home. She was driving away from it.

Damon was her home.

Elena's breath came in short, rapid bursts, her chest heaving from the sheer magnitude of her realization. Her blood began to rush, singing with adrenaline as she bolted upright in the worn seat of the truck.

"Turn the car around," she ordered suddenly, urgency evident in her voice. Matt gave her a wary sideways glance, his brow lifted in doubt. "I made a mistake, Matt. Turn around. _Please._"

Matt huffed out a frustrated breath and gave Elena a long look, but finally nodded. He spun the steering wheel, his tires crunching across gravel as he swerved around into the other lane. He accelerated slightly, driving them further away from Mystic Falls – further into the night.

Elena gripped the edges of her seat, the toe of her converse tapping against the battered floorboard. She willed the truck to go faster, her mind scrambling, yet focused on one thing – one person. She hadn't known what she was thinking before. Actually, she did know what she was thinking, and she felt ashamed of her cowardly decision, looking back on it. Stefan was what everyone else wanted her to choose, what everyone expected. Stefan was the safe choice, the status quo; and Damon – Damon was the dark horse, the unpredictable asshole who set most everyone's teeth on edge - the fallen angel. She'd chosen Stefan in a last ditch effort to cling to what her life had been. Now, as she drove ever further away from him, she felt herself letting it go. She didn't need the Stefan Crutch anymore; he'd left her, and Damon stayed – it had made her strong. Independent from Stefan, maybe, but not independent all around. She'd said it once, and she'd say it again: she didn't know what she would do if she didn't have Damon. Damon was her center of gravity, her rock, her protector and defender. Her life had given itself over to chaos, to supernatural mayhem that wasn't ever supposed to exist, and she couldn't do it alone. She couldn't do it with Stefan, either; she needed Damon.

Her breathing hitched as she remembered why she was doing this in the first place: if Klaus had told the truth, then she wouldn't even have the option of choosing a brother in a few hours. Her throat tightened as she chastised herself for doing this to Damon in what could be his final hours; no one had ever chosen him, no one ever told him that he was important, no one ever really _loved _him. And she was going to leave him to die alone. Tears sprang to her eyes at her own cruelty. She'd always heard that the people that you hurt the most are the people that you love the most –

_Love. Love _the most.

She loved Damon.

Perhaps she'd always known somewhere in her heart that she'd loved him one way or the other all along, but the sheer magnitude of the concrete idea that finally bloomed in her mind hit her like a wrecking ball. Her hands began to shake and her lips trembled because _she loved Damon. _Her face crumpled and her heart dropped because it seemed she realized it only when it was too late.

She stared out the window, her eyes unfocused on the velvety darkness outside, as the miles crawled by. The damp, shining two-lane road seemed to stretch on forever, maybe even stretch, on a deeper level, to forever.

… … …

When Matt's truck finally pulled in to the dimly lit parking lot, Elena thought her heart might burst. The fact that if she hadn't changed her mind, she'd never see him again, that she might've left him to die alone made her burn with shame, but at the same time, that fact that she _did _change her mind made her blood sing with a thrilling anxiety, with a resounding sense of rightness. Through the misty windshield, she could barely make out two figures struggling in the corner of the parking lot, but she knew both of the wrestling forms by heart; she knew exactly who they were. She shifted nervously in her seat.

"Matt, as soon as I get out of this truck, I want you to turn around and drive home as fast as you can – so you can get to the others. No, don't argue with me," she admonished as he opened his mouth in protest. "I'll be fine. Damon's here. He'll make sure I get home safe. You _know _he will."

Matt silently looked at her for a moment, his lips pursed, before he finally spoke. "Take care of yourself, Elena."

Elena nodded violently, leaning across the seat and throwing her arms around his neck. "I will, Matt. I will." She sniffled. "Thank you for doing this for me, you have no idea-" Matt nodded hastily, modestly accepting her gratitude.

"I better be getting back then," he murmured, giving her shoulder one final squeeze. She shot him a small smile before reaching for the door handle. She threw open the truck door, leaping down onto the pavement and slamming the door back shut again. Matt quickly reversed, then turned to go, his tail lights fading as he drove away.

The noises of the tussle across the parking lot ceased at the sound of the slamming car door. Elena saw the two vampires turn toward her as their fists momentarily abandoned their assault on their opponent.

"Elena?"

When the strangled, surprised voice reached her from across the lot, something inside Elena snapped. She broke into a run, her sneakers skidding along the slick pavement. Through blurred vision, she saw him step away from Alaric, who was currently too stunned to react. She bounded the last few yards, practically falling into Damon. Her arms flew around his neck, and she pressed her lips to his cheek, his jaw, his forehead – practically any part of his face that she could reach besides his lips. After recovering from the initial shock of the impact, Damon's arms wrapped around her back, hauling her up against him.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she choked out, her voice thick with tears. "I couldn't leave you, I just had to come back, I couldn't leave you alone here-" she ran her fingers along his face, delving into his hair and stroking his cheekbones.

"Shh, it's okay, it's going to be okay," he soothed, his lips brushing her hair as he buried his hand at the nape of her neck. The irony that he was always comforting her when he was in mortal danger was not lost on Elena, and a pained smile cracked at her lips. He brushed her hair back from her face, and she leaned her forehead against his.

"I'm here now," she whispered, her lips almost grazing his. He finally set her back on her feet, but his hands didn't leave her body, instead shifting to her waist. Elena peered up into his eyes, wiping the tears from her stiff cheeks with the heel of her palm. She frowned. "You're hurt," she said, her hands still roaming his face. Her thumb grazed over his busted lip, and her fingers pushed his tussled hair back from his forehead to reveal a hairline slick with blood.

"I'll be fine," he assured her, his lips moving gently against the pad of her thumb, his eyes looking down at her, full of reassurance and devotion. "You came back," he murmured, and the soft wonder in his voice made her throat tighten. His hands climbed upward to remove hers from his face, and he clutched at both of them gently. He raised one to his lips and tenderly pressed them to it, his eyes falling shut. The way his dark eyelashes rested against his cheek made Elena want to pull his face to hers and kiss it, but the feeling of his warm mouth against her hand had her frozen to the spot. He released her hand, letting it fall to her side, and lifted the other to his lips, repeating the show of affection. Her pulse jumped erratically, and she repressed a whimper. He finally lifted his head to look at her, his eyes clouded with doubt and devastating hope at the same time. "What made you change your mind?"

Tears threatened to well up in Elena's eyes once more when she caught the unbelieving expression on his face. This man had gone for a century and half without being shown love, without ever being chosen first, and it seemed like it had become too much for his heart to take – it stopped him from believing that he ever _could _be loved. A strangled noise escaped from Elena's throat, and she held Damon's stricken face with both hands, pulling him closer to her. She suddenly knew exactly what she was going to say.

"I had to come back, Damon," she explained, exhaling a shaky breath. "You see…there's something going on between the two of us, and I know it – and I've been lying to you, I've been lying to Stefan, but most of all, _I've been lying to myself." _She broke off, wiping away more tears as a trembling smile tugged at her lips. "I can prove it." And then, closing the final distance between them (in more ways than one), she kissed him.

This kiss was unlike any of the previous ones; this time, Damon wasn't forcing himself on her. This time, Damon didn't lay dying in her arms. This time, She wasn't confused, like she had been when he kissed her on the porch. This time, it wasn't fueled by lust, or curiosity, or anything else – but love.

Damon's lips parted against hers, and his tongue gently, languidly explored her mouth, as if he was finally given the chance to really show her how much she meant to him, how much this meant to him, and that he meant he was going to take his own sweet time doing it. She kissed him back, and she could taste relief, she could taste wonder and a heartbreaking depth of adoration on his tongue, as if there was nothing more important or monumental in the world than standing there, sweating and bloody, kissing her. He ran his fingers down the length of her hair, his other hand at the small of her back, drawing her to him. She twined an arm around his neck, her other palm resting gently against his heart. They stayed like this for an eternity, yet at the same time not nearly long enough, before the sound of a shuffling foot broke them apart, if only at the lips.

"I hate to interrupt this little epiphany of yours here, Elena, but you broke up something I plan on finishing." Alaric (if the shell of the man could even be called by that name anymore) sneered, slowly stepping toward them. Damon's eyes narrowed and his lip curled as he tried to step in front of Elena, but she wasn't having it.

"No."

Elena threw her arms out, her palm pressing against Damon's chest to hold him at bay. She stepped to the side, wrapping her arms around Damon's middle determinedly and resting her head against his neck. "You kill him, you have to go through me, and if your memory serves, I'm sure you'll realize that I'll have no problem sticking to that promise. And as far as I know, a dead me still means a dead you." Damon's strong hands panicked as he tried to push her behind him, and his eyes were steely when she met his gaze. "We have to get out of here," she mouthed, turning her face from Alaric's view.

Alaric's footsteps halted, but he looked no less menacing. "Even if I let you go now, this is nowhere _near _the end - I hope you realize that," He said calmly, a chilling edge to his voice. "I know all of your weaknesses and when we're all back in Mystic Falls I will _tear you apart_." His eyes lingered on Damon, indicating that the words were meant for him. "I failed Mystic Falls before, but this time, I guarantee, I will rid this town of you goddamned _leeches _if it's the last thing I ever do."

"That's funny, because it _would _be the last thing you ever did," Damon shot back, his eyes flashing. For a split second, a melancholy, searching look graced Damon's bloodied features. "You know, we used to drink together every night at the grill," Damon offered casually, looking, almost painfully hopefully, for a crack in Alaric's façade.

"And that, Damon, was part of my problem," Alaric said coldly, his fist tightening around the stake he held. Elena grabbed Damon's hand, clutching to it to ground him or herself, she wasn't sure.

Maybe it wasn't a façade after all.

Alaric was really gone.

Damon bowed his head, shaking it slightly. "Elena." He spoken suddenly, and her eyes shot up to his. "Go get in the car." Elena shook her head, protesting vehemently.

"I'll go if you go," she said firmly, her hand holding tighter to his.

"I'll be right behind you," he assured her. "Go."

Elena shook her head again, not moving a foot.

"_Elena," _he ground out, gritting his teeth, _"Go get in the car."_

She wasn't frightened, but the look in his eyes told her that this was important, that he needed to do this. Reluctantly, she let go of his hand, dragging her fingertips across his palm, and with one last long look, she sprinted off toward the blue Camaro, clutching her sweater tightly to her in the chilly night air.

She heard the doors unlock right before she reached them, and she yanked open the passenger side, falling into the leather bucket seat. She turned sideways so that her feet were still planted on the pavement and leaned outside, determined to watch whatever was going to happen unfold. She saw Damon walk toward Alaric, saying something to him. Alaric's head tilted jauntily to one side, and he lifted the hand holding the stake. Elena bit her lip, her eyes widening in panic. However, before she could even rise completely out of the car, in one lightning fast, sickening motion, Damon thrust his hand into Alaric's chest and quickly ripped it back out, a dark, bloody mass clutched in his fingers. Alaric staggered, grabbing at Damon's shoulder, and fell backwards onto the pavement, motionless. Damon stood there for a long moment, Alaric's heart in his hand, before he crouched down, blocking the corpse from Elena's view. Her hand covered her mouth as her own heart leapt into her throat; she'd just watched the last remaining parental figure in her life get his heart ripped out. A creeping sadness came over her as she momentarily forgot that the true Alaric had already been gone for quite some time. She wasn't the only one who felt that way, it would seem, either: Damon was still crouched by the body, and he appeared to be talking to it. He fell silent for a moment before lifting the graying corpse into his arms and standing up straight. He glanced off toward the trees, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Elena sank back into the car seat, her hand sliding from her mouth. Secretly, she'd been holding out some hope that the old Alaric could somehow come back; she knew it was ridiculous, but when it came to losing another loved one, after so many others, this time around she was struggling to even accept it. Her heart sank as she realized that however hard it was for her to see, she wasn't the one who had to murder her own (and perhaps only) best friend.

Elena couldn't even bring herself to admire Damon's strength because it broke her heart too much. He'd never truly been loved or accepted, yet he'd fought for those around him, and he always did what no one else would do. She'd seen it in him several times before, yet she'd never been brave enough to acknowledge that Damon - the pariah, the reckless, impulsive man with the broken heart - was perhaps the strongest of them all. And his strength – it had made her strong too.

"Hey," the vampire himself opened the driver's side door, yanking Elena out of her reverie and causing her to jump. "I dropped the body in the river," he explained, settling down into his seat and shutting the door, so that they were alone, isolated in the silence. Elena glanced at his hands, now free from any blood whatsoever; he must've washed them in the river. "I don't know if he'll stay dead or not, but I figured it was at least worth a try to give us a head start." His voice was oddly tight and detached as he filled her in. "I guess we'll find out eventually."

Elena looked down at her lap, her hair falling across her face. A hand was suddenly resting on her knee, the thumb rubbing back and forth across her kneecap.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. I didn't want you to."

Elena turned to look at him and saw that his eyes were full of concern and penitence, and something else – fear. Fear of rejection, fear of anger, fear that she saw him as a monster. Her heart broke.

"It was for the best, Damon." Her hand fell on top of his, her fingers tracing his knuckles. "That wasn't Alaric in there anymore, not really. He's been gone ever since the decades dance." She saw him relax visibly out of the corner of her eye. "Besides," she continued, turning to meet his eyes, "I couldn't have him come back and try to kill everyone I love. I can't lose anyone else." Something inside her twinged as she said this, because she knew that after tonight, she'd probably lose the brother that was still waiting on her in Mystic Falls. But that would be his choice, not hers.

"If it's any comfort, I don't think you'll have to worry about that tonight." Elena's eyebrows rose. "The window of time where all of Klaus's vampire bloodline was supposed to bite the dust has passed. Either he's a big fat liar liar, pants on fire-" he broke off, chuckling darkly as he remembered that he'd just watched Klaus burn to a crisp a few hours ago, "or something's happened and he's really not dead. Personally, I'm hoping for option numero uno."

Elena grinned at how lightly he was taking this. She's completely forgotten about the bloodline catastrophe, and her spirits lifted considerably as she realized that her friends were not going to die tonight. The loss of Alaric cast a great shadow within her, and she didn't know what she was going to do about Stefan – how was she ever going to tell him that she'd made the wrong choice? - but all things considered, things had definitely taken a turn for the better. Her friends were safe, and Damon was alive – alive, and she was here with him. He loved her, and she loved him, and right now, that was all that really mattered.

… … …

** And that's a wrap! I hope I'm not too rusty. Did you all catch the reference to 2x01, the bedroom scene? It's always been a fantasy of mine to have Elena repeat Damon's words back to him and change them around. I find incredible beauty in parallels, especially ones that span over time. Anyways, the finale broke my heart, but I think I've found peace with it. I heartily believe that Damon and Elena will be endgame after all of this. Anyways, please leave your thoughts, criticisms, and general fangirling here in a review! It would be much appreciated! Reviews are the lifeblood of writers around here, as I'm sure you've heard before. If you're still reading right now, an extra big thank you for putting up with me! Over and out. **


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